


conventional taste

by ficfucker



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: freddy surprises larry with something new in the bedroom.
Relationships: Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	conventional taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zwtfmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwtfmate/gifts).



> yeah freddy like def ain't a cop in this but what au this is... that's yours to decide lmao
> 
> thank you matt, once again, for giving me an idea for creamsicle! freddy in lingerie... how could i say no?

The first problem with being a grown man shopping for lingerie for himself is that you're a grown man shopping for lingerie for yourself. The second problem is you've really got no idea how sizing works in this field, considering you've only had to worry about jeans and shoes prior to this, and those are a hell of a lot more straight forward than whatever the fuck a cup size chart for bras tells you.

Freddy Newandyke somehow finds himself in this exact situation.

Victoria's Secret has too many options, Freddy tells himself. That's why he's having such an issue here. Not at all related to the fucking tent he's pitching in his blue jeans trying to look casually at bras and sleep shorts and strips of clothing he doesn't even know the names of.

He's the only guy in the whole store and avoiding the eyes of sales clerks is getting harder by the second.

Freddy draws a finger over the hem of a pale pink nightie as he passes the rack. It's criminally soft, would probably feel exponentially softer flowing down to the middle of his bare thighs. Larry's warm, calloused hands sliding slowly up to grasp his hips and take Freddy apart like some offering to a merciful God…

"Shopping for a girlfriend?"

Freddy startles and blinks over at the sales rep who has magically appeared beside him, a short, cheery blonde grinning up at him in two rows of perfectly white, painfully straight teeth.

Freddy swallows and tries on a shy smile. "Uh, yeah. Her birthday is soon and she's way into… she likes all this frilly stuff."

The clerk, who, by the little plastic pin on her shirt, is named Jessica, nods. "That's very sweet of you then, buying for her. Is it a surprise?"

Freddy had a story all lined up and ready to go in his head, a perfect yarn about some imaginary girl he's banging, details enough he could win an award. He'd practiced in the mirror three times before leaving the house, but now that he's here, his brain is pudding, his words gone.

"Birthday surprise."

"What's her taste like?"

Freddy thinks about Larry. He's traditional, wine you and dine you type guy, call you sweetheart and open the car door for you to step out sort of fella. His sexual appetite is similar, slow and steady and old fashioned. What does that say about what style lingerie a man might want to see?

"She's…," Freddy starts slowly, "She's _conventional_. Don't like to fuss with being too showy, you know?"

"Well, in that case, a tried and true go-to set would be stockings and garters. Is that something she'd be interested in?"

Freddy's stomach drops. In his mind's eye he sees himself: sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling sheer socks up to his shaven midthigh while Larry watches from the doorway. His mouth dries.

"Yeah!" he says, almost too enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect for her, actually."

Jessica beams and shows him over to the proper section, which is overwhelming in a whole new way. Freddy's got no idea what color or design he's meant to pick and Jessica is still hovering around him expectantly.

He ends up going with a set somewhat blindly, praying to God he's guessed his own size correctly, and the checkout is the last nail in Freddy's publicly embarrassing coffin, having to smile his way through it as he watches Jessica ring up his items, his items that he's going to wearing in front of another man. Freddy says thank you, shoves the receipt in the pink paper bag, and makes for the door. He's got to brave the mall a few minutes more to the exit.

In his car, he shoves the bag under the passenger seat and drops his head down to the steering wheel.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes.

His heart is still beating like thundering fists and a quick glance in the rear view confirms his face is branding-iron red.

* * *

" _Are you really sure?" Freddy asked._

_"What doubt is there? I like what's here right in front of me," Larry answered. He ran his hands down Freddy's back and slipped them under his shirt, wanting to continue what he started._

_Freddy kissed him again, slow and teasing, mouth open but refusing to press his tongue past Larry's teeth. A centimeter from his lips, Freddy said, "There's gotta be like, something, man… You don't ever get bored of the same old same old?"_

_"The same old same old you're talking about," Larry said, "is a very fine piece of ass that's all mine, so no, I don't necessarily bore easily with that."_

_Freddy giggled, almost sounded flustered. "But we did it in the bathroom at the diner when I asked… Are you meaning to tell me that didn't do anything for you?"_

_"I'm not as young as I used to be, buddy boy. All the risky hanky panky you like is gonna give me a fuckin' heart attack one of these days."_

_Freddy grinned, rubbed his nose against Larry's in an Eskimo kiss. "Don't remember you arguing against it."_

_"I didn't say I was against it, did I?" Larry ran his nails over Freddy's shoulder blades, grazed him lightly but with enough pressure that Freddy wiggled satisfyingly in his lap. "I don't mind playing your little games, don't mind one bit, but I'm not as adventurous as you, kid. Those days are over"_

_"I think you're holdin' out on me."_

_Larry chuckled, surprised. "Holdin' out on you? With what?"_

_Freddy leaned away and shrugged a single shoulder, reaching over the arm of the couch to grab the crumpled pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. "With what you're into… No way you don't like something specific."_

_"Never been one to experiment."_

_Freddy's lips kind of curled into a half smile. "You know? Don't come as a surprise… But shit, even plain Jane's like something. Choking, spanking, the usual kinky business."_

_Larry watched Freddy light up and loll his head back, fish-mouthing smoke rings to the ceiling._

_“Bondage?”_

_Larry snorted. “Keep dreamin’.”_

_Freddy rolled his eyes and continued puffing his cigarette._

_After a minute of this treatment, Larry relented. "Fine. You beat it outta me."_

_Freddy sat up at attention._

_"Uh, women's underwear. Nightwear and all that hullabaloo."_

_Freddy warmed with a fresh blush, held the cigarette out to Larry. "On me?"_

_"No, on Cher. Yeah on you, you fuckin' brat." Larry purposefully exhaled smoke in Freddy's face._

_Freddy grinned. "Hey…"_

_"Hey what?"_

_Freddy's grin grew deviously. "Just realized something."_

_"Oh yeah? Didn't think you had brains enough for that."_

_"Oh, fuck you, man."_

_Larry smiled affectionately. He ran his hands down Freddy's sides, planted them on his hips. "Get on with it. What'd you realize?"_

_"Remember that trick you taught me? 'Bout how to get information outta people?"_

_Larry narrowed his eyes._

_"Threaten to cut off a man's thumb and he'll tell you if he wears women's underwear?" Freddy giggled. "Must make you happy in all types of ways."_

_Cigarette smoldering securely between his lips, Larry tightened his hold on Freddy's hips. He lifted him and pinned him down on the couch. He faked a mean grin while Freddy laughed wildly. "Your thumb is next, smart Alec," he murmured._

* * *

Freddy Newandyke is one lucky son of a bitch. The panties, the stockings, the garter belts, they all fit. The stockings are a little tight. They clench around him when he sits and the meat of his thighs inevitably expand, but not so much that he's risking circulation problems by wearing them.

He stands in front of the mirror and looks himself over. Freddy isn't particularly tall for a man, but he's not abnormally short either. The black sheer stockings make his legs appear devilishly long and slender, eyes raking up to the garter straps that attach to the tops of them. And those attached to the panties. They're basic black undies with some ridiculous lattice and flower patterned lace fencing the hem, which match the trim of the stockings. A single bow is sewn directly above his crotch.

Freddy turns around, looks at himself from all imaginable angles. His first thought is Rocky Horror (a pivotal moment in his gay awakening as a youth when he snuck into a theater to watch it). His second thought is one of confusing confidence. He feels desirable and almost dangerous, sleek and catty in his flashy lingerie.

Freddy is raising his index finger and thumb up to his reflection in the mimic of a gun, teeth bared, one eye shut in a playful wink, when the phone rings and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Hello?"

"Want me to pick you up for dinner, sweetheart? Could go out or cook at my place…"

"What's wrong with my apartment?"

Hearing Larry's voice has Freddy straining the front of his already considerably tight panties. He crosses his legs at the ankles, shifts the phone from his left ear to his right.

"Your apartment always looks like a fuckin' _bomb_ just went off, that's what's wrong with it."

"Part of my charm."

"You're lucky I put up with you… I'll be over within the hour."

Freddy hangs up and looks down at himself, dick half hard and leaking into his brand new panties.

* * *

If Larry notices that Freddy's jeans aren't cuffed like they usually are, he doesn't say anything when Freddy gets into the car. He leans over and gives Larry a quick kiss as greeting.

"Fun day, trouble maker?"

"Laid in bed missing you like a fucking dope the entire time," Freddy jokes.

Larry chuckles and drops his hand to Freddy's thigh. "Should've paid me a visit, kiddo. Woulda _shown_ you just how much I been missing you."

Freddy swallows, giggles. He's terrified Larry's gonna feel the line of his garter belt through the denim. It makes his cock twitch with shameful, burning interest. "Gonna go make up for all that lost time?" he asks with a grin.

"Better believe it." Larry gives him a loving squeeze and Freddy shifts into the touch despite the anxiety stirring in him. "But first, you're gonna eat."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Feed me, bathe me, put me to bed."

"Think you're forgetting a piece." Larry's hand creeps further up Freddy's thigh until he's almost palming his crotch.

"Which piece is that?" Freddy fakes a look of deep thought, pursing his lips. "The one where you get Ironman and Superman confused or the one where you complain about your back hurting all the time?"

"The one where I bend you over my goddamn knee and spank you till you wail."

Freddy grins, his stomach hot. "Careful, man, I _just_ might be _into_ that."

* * *

Freddy had planned to wait until they'd had dinner. He really had; wanted a nice meal and maybe some of the boxed wine he and Larry cracked open the other night; sprawl out in Larry's bed and let Larry peel him apart layer by layer like a present.

But by the time they're in the apartment, Freddy's hot, coiled. Larry has one shoe kicked off, is toeing out of the other, when Freddy places his fingers under his chin. He tilts Larry towards him, kisses him shamelessly.

Larry kisses back and when he goes to break it, Freddy chases him for another. Larry smiles and chuckles. "What's the rush, Freddo?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Want ya bad, Larry," he breathes.

Larry's smile widens and he rights himself. "Jesus, kid, lemme get my shoes off first." He does so, but Freddy doesn’t kick off his Converse, doesn’t want to give away just yet what he’s wearing.

Larry returns to Freddy, encircles him with his arms. His hands rest low on Freddy's back. "Guess you really did miss me, huh?"

Freddy peppers kisses down his neck. "Mm." He bites at the juncture of throat and shoulder, pricking Larry with his puppy-sharp canines. "Not gettin' any younger, you know," he mumbles, muffled against Larry's collar.

"Give a man warnin' first, shit, kid. Barely through the door and yer pouncin' on me…" Larry's grip slides lower and he palms Freddy through his jeans, squeezes him until Freddy's arching forward. He chuckles and kisses the side of Freddy's head. He kind of nuzzles against him, breathes in his scent. "Takin' it you want to head to the bedroom before dinner?"

"Fuck yeah," Freddy exhales.

Larry walks Freddy down the hall. Freddy clings to him like spider webbing, kisses him every chance he's given. Larry nudges Freddy back until his knees hit the edge of the bed and then Freddy's flopping down with a thin laugh.

"How is it you get prettier every time I see you?"

Freddy melts into a smile and raises his arm above his head. His t-shirt rides up a bit. "Yer the one who's all handsome and shit. Get down here before I die, man."

"You ain't dyin'." But Larry indulges and crawls over Freddy, kisses him with a new heat.

"Larry."

"Mm."

"Planned somethin' special…"

That breaks Larry from his kissing and he pulls back enough that he can look at Freddy fully. He raises his eyebrows curiously. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Freddy wiggles his hips side to side from under Larry and the silliness of it breaks him into a smile that's less seductive and more kiddish.

"Gonna let me on what exactly that is, buddy boy?" Larry scoots away some and tugs at the hem of Freddy’s shirt. He lifts it up over his head, discards it with little care, and swoops down to kiss at Freddy’s bare chest.

Freddy makes an “mmm” sound in the back of his throat. “Gonna have to find out on yer own.” He draws his hand up and sweeps his fingers through Larry’s hair. Some of the grease has faded from it, reducing it to its natural curliness and Freddy twirls a single coil around his index.

Larry exhales through his nose and the puff of warm air against naked skin raises goosebumps. He gives Freddy’s left nipple a light, teasing bite, accompanied by a soothing kiss. His tongue darts out once, a quick, loving lick before he’s glancing up at Freddy. “Ain’t discovered nothin’ new yet, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

His eyes are half lidded and it makes Freddy’s stomach hiccup with heat. It’s a look Freddy knows well: a darkness to Larry’s eyes. He plans to be slow, methodical. Is going to give Freddy everything he wants, pamper him completely.

Freddy breathes out, shaky. He quirks a smile. “Keep lookin’...”

Larry doesn’t argue or push. He would gladly spend hours exploring every centimeter of the kid, with hands or mouth, press his nose into him as he works his way down. “Keep lookin’,” Larry echoes, sounding amused.

His fingers brush over Freddy’s fly and Freddy gasps, cants his hips up. Larry smirks. “Warmer?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Larry chuckles and pops open the worn nickel button of Freddy’s blue jeans. He tracks the zipper down with an agonizing slowness and then stops completely.

Freddy’s heart hammers in his ears, face flooded with a blush.

“ _Oh, kid_...,” Larry breathes. He rubs his thumb over the single bow of shiny black ribbon, seems to savor the touch. The pad of his thumb ghosts the head of Freddy’s erection, which is straining the thin fabric.

“Surprise,” Freddy squeaks.

“Yer somethin’ else…,” Larry murmurs. His voice is pure honey. He grabs Freddy by the ankle and starts yanking his laces loose.

The grip is one of controlled hunger, a tell of how keyed up Larry is, and another wave of arousal washes over Freddy. He lolls his head limp in the sheets, whimpers when his shoe is shucked off and Larry begins working on the other.

“Get the jeans off,” Larry demands. He stands back and looks down at Freddy expectantly.

Freddy lifts up off the mattress and shimmies out of his jeans with little grace. He kicks the jeans away and then he’s sprawled out on display. Larry’s eyes scan from top to bottom and, absently, he licks his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He drops to a squat and draws one of Freddy’s legs up, presses his cheek to his shaven calf, and plants a kiss there through the sheer stocking. “Fuckin’ _gorgeous_ , kid,” he hums. He trails more kisses up. “Jesus, look at you…” He reaches Freddy’s midthigh and yanks playfully at the silver clasp on his garter. “All for me?”

Freddy tries to laugh, but it’s breathy and wanting. “All for you, old man.”

Larry inches up and without warning, noses against Freddy’s crotch. He mouths at his cock through the panties and Freddy goes tense. His hands go to the back of Larry’s head, pull at him as though he could get any closer without completely phasing through him.

Gently, boarding on cautiously, Larry hooks both thumbs into Freddy’s panties and tugs them down so his erection bobs free.

Freddy goes to protest, to say he wants more than head, but his argument shatters into a high moan when Larry closes his mouth over him and swallows him down to the root. He chokes a bit, overly ambitious, but the contraction is devilish in how good it feels. Freddy curls his fingers tighter into Larry’s hair, whiteknuckling. Larry sweeps his eyes open and up to see Freddy on his elbows, straining to look down at him. The angle is awkward, unflattering, but Freddy looks rumpled, looks absolutely blissed by the attention and that’s all Larry wants; doesn’t care about Hollywood pornography shots or try-hard beauty.

“Fuck, man, fu-u-uck,” Freddy sputters when Larry starts to draw up and dip down, dragging his tongue messily along Freddy’s length.

Larry hums. A thread of drool escapes the corner of his mouth, skates down Freddy’s thigh. His hands are palming Freddy’s hips, keeping him pinned. Another push down and he gags, forces himself to take more, and nestles his nose against Freddy’s crop of dirty blond pubic hair.

Freddy hatches into a sharp, startled moan. “D-Don’t!” he cries, shaking. “I-I wanna do—I want more…”

Larry pulls off with an obscenely wet sound and licks at his bottom lip. “We have the whole night,” he says. Before Freddy can get in another word, Larry’s mouth is on him again.

Freddy whines, yanks at Larry’s hair as if that will convince him of anything. But of course, Freddy doesn’t really want Larry to stop. The tight, wet heat of his mouth has sparks swimming behind Freddy’s clenched eyelids.

Blindly, Larry skims his hand down Freddy’s leg, runs it up and down the smooth expanse of stocking. After a minute, he hitches Freddy’s right leg over his shoulder and crowds in closer. He’s unashamed with the involuntary gagging now.

“Larry,” Freddy moans, writhing in the bed. His breaths come out in shudders that start and stop patternlessly. “Fuckin’ christ, Larry…”

Larry edges off until only his lips are wrapped around Freddy’s cock. He wraps a hand around him, starts to stroke him, quick and determined. Freddy babbles mindlessly and gives a few weak, crooked thrusts before he’s spurting into Larry’s awaiting mouth. He chants Larry’s name until his voice declines to a ragged whisper and his cock throbs one last time.

“Oh my god,” Freddy breathes.

Larry wastes no time in standing up and unbuckling his belt. He doesn’t even bother pulling his shirt off, just climbs up on the bed and rolls Freddy onto his side. “My perfect boy,” he growls. He spits into his palm, a mix of his own saliva and Freddy’s cum, and waxes it over his cock.

Freddy knows the plan and he lifts his leg, tugs his panties back up so Larry can tuck between his thighs. As soon as his legs are pressed together, Larry is thrusting. One hand grips tight on Freddy’s hip, the other curled where the strap of Freddy’s garter draws a black line over his pale skin.

“So pretty. My pretty boy,” Larry pants. He ducks down and Freddy twists his upper half toward him, meets his kiss with fiery enthusiasm despite the tired sag of his body. Larry forces his tongue into his mouth, bites at his bottom lip. Not breaking away, he finds Freddy’s wrist and guides his hand to his chest, encourages Freddy to take his own nipple between his fingers and pinch.

Freddy moans into his mouth, face screwing up with shocked pleasure.

Larry keeps driving forward, jiggling Freddy’s body with each slap. Freddy’s so warm and so soft and Larry is so close. He feels like he’s been lit from the inside, like a fuse rapidly dwindling. He slots his mouth against Freddy’s again and the feathery cry that comes from him is all Larry needs.

He grunts and his thrusts turn sloppy and erratic. He shoots between Freddy’s legs onto the sheets, a few drops landing on and slipping down Freddy’s already slick thighs. Larry inches back and pants, smiles at Freddy in a haze.

Freddy slings both arms around Larry’s neck and yanks him down for a final, shapeless kiss. Larry slumps willingly, presses all his weight onto Freddy.

For a minute, they just breathe.

Larry kisses below Freddy’s eye. “You gonna get up and make supper?”

“No way, I’m fuckin’ wiped out.”

“Hey, you got yourself into this.”

Freddy smiles, breaks into a sleepy yawn. “I ain’t complainin’.”

Larry rolls over and edges his pants up enough that he’s covered, not that it really matters. He wraps his arms around Freddy and pulls him close so he’s spooning the kid. He runs his finger along the frilly trim of Freddy’s stockings. “How ‘bout take-out?”

Freddy giggles. “That Chinese place?”

“Gotta get dressed to get the door.” Larry kisses below Freddy’s ear. “And before you argue, I’ll do it… Wanna see you like this the whole night…”

**Author's Note:**

> lmao hope you enjoyed this pure smut
> 
> thank you for reading! you can find me on tmblr @ficfucker <3


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